


Business Settings

by orphan_account



Series: Teacher!Lestrade AU [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds out about Lestrade's date with his brother and reacts about how you'd expect him to. Lestrade is undeterred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Settings

                “I forbid it.”

                “What? Sherlock?” Greg murmured groggily.

                “Of course it’s Sherlock! Who else would it be? Stop being stupid.” Sherlock yelled. “I forbid it.”

                Greg sat up and stared at the clock in disbelief. “It’s three in the morning! Why are you calling me at three in the morning?! How did you even get my number?”

                “Do not insult me! Getting your home phone number was simplicity itself. I’m calling at this time because you have been behaving oddly lately, and I’ve been trying to sort out the why. I thought it would be a good exercise in deduction. While I was dissecting the bat the pieces of your bizarre behavior fell into place. Hence this call and my forbidding you consorting with my brother.”

                Greg rubbed his forehead and sighed, “Please tell me you didn’t kill a bat to dissect.”

                “Of course not! I found the bat and am trying to determine cause of death.”

                “You found _a bat_ in London?”

                “Stop trying to distract me! Acknowledge that you have heard me forbid you from fraternizing with my brother!”

                “I acknowledge that I heard you forbid me from fraternizing with your brother.”

                “Good. When are you going to inform him that you have to cancel your… _date_?”

                “Probably never.”

                “You’re not amusing, Lestrade.”

                “It’s three in the morning. No one is amusing at three in the morning.”

                “You agreed to break off the date!”

                “No, I acknowledged that you forbid the date. I don’t really care about what you forbid me to do.”

                “This is intolerable! You and Mycroft are not allowed to see one another outside a business setting. How did you even meet?” Sherlock gasped and he sounded deviantly gleeful when he asked, “Lestrade are you blackmailing my brother?”

                “No you bastard! I’m going out on a date with him.”

                “I forbid it.”

                “You’re on repeat.”

                “Mycroft doesn’t date, Lestrade. I’m fairly certain he’s aromantic and asexual.”

                “Gaydar isn’t a word but aromantic is?” Greg said, referencing an earlier argument.

                “Focus! My brother does not date so he must have _some_ reason for this charade.”

                “We’re just going to ignore the reason that he could be doing this because he likes me. Sherlock, you make great deductions but I’ve seen you make wrong ones before. You even admit that you miss things. Maybe you just miss the signs that your brother has a dating life. Or maybe he hasn’t dated in a while. When you were younger you probably didn’t know the signs to look for. There might have been some reason he stopped dating… Like his parents dying and becoming guardian to a bratty kid. Thanks for telling me about that by the way.”

                “Why would I have told you about that? It happened before I met you.”

               “Most people tell their mentors important information like that.”

                Greg grinned while Sherlock spluttered indignantly. “You are not my mentor! You are a thorn in my side and that is all!”

                “You went to the trouble of figuring out my home phone number just so you could forbid me from dating your brother on the off chance he hurts me.”

                “Will you please hold? I need to laugh hysterically at your wrong deductions.”

                “I’m dating your brother. Good-night.”

                Lestrade let the phone ring seven times before he finally picked up the phone. Calmly he said, “Hello?”

                “Never hang up on me again, Lestrade!” Sherlock shrieked.

                “Sherlock? Is that you? What are you doing this time of the night?”

                “Why do you think you’re funny? You’re not funny. Who has been telling you lies about you being funny?”

                “Your brother thinks I’m hilarious.”

                “My brother is an ignorant, arrogant busy-body!”

                “He sounds brilliant. If you call me again tonight I’ll unplug my phone.”

                “Your pathetic threats”-

                Greg hung up the phone because it was good for the boy to be reminded he wasn’t the center of the universe every now and then. There was no way Greg was going to cancel his date with Mycroft. It was the first time in ages he felt he’d connected with someone and he wasn’t giving that up that easily. Although Greg was a little concerned about Mycroft not dating. Even if it was just that Mycroft hadn’t dated since getting guardianship of Sherlock that was a long time. It felt like there was more pressure on this date than there had been. Greg shook his head and told himself to snap out of it. This was probably just Sherlock’s bastard way of getting in Greg’s head.

 

~~~

 

                When John entered Greg’s classroom he had insisted that he didn’t need anything. Since Greg tried to maintain an open door policy for the students he decided to let John just wander and be until it was closer to when class was supposed to start. After a few minutes of silence Greg looked up to find John standing in front of his desk staring at him. Greg raised his brows and said, “Hi.”

                “Hi.”

                “Right… Did Sherlock send you here to convince me to call off my date with his brother?”

                “Yeah.”

                “I’m surprised you agreed.”

                John shrugged, “I’m not here to tell you to break off your date. But if I didn’t come in then Sherlock was going to spend the rest of the day telling me why I should every seventeen minutes.”

                “That’s an oddly specific number.”

                “Well his speech takes fifteen minutes and getting his breath back takes two minutes.”

                Greg laughed, “Okay.” John continued to stand there staring at Greg so Greg decided there was more to this visit than avoiding a lecture. “Is there something else you wanted to talk about?”

                “Are you really going out on a date with Mycroft?” John asked skeptically. Greg wondered briefly what Mycroft had done to make these boys think he was a monk. Or maybe he was a monk. Since he didn’t really want to think about that he nodded. “So are you gay?” Greg raised his brows because tactlessness was generally Sherlock’s area.

                “Sorry. That was rude. I know that was rude and it’s none of my business and I don’t even _care_ if you are gay. But I’m trying to figure out… what I am. And Sherlock’s no help because every time I ask if he’s gay he says that he’s John. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him that John is not a sexuality. Then I’m over here and everyone thinks I’m gay now because of Sherlock, which wouldn’t be that big of a deal except I don’t think I am. Are gay guys attracted to girls? Are you attracted to girls?”

                “John!” Greg cried because John sounded like he was running out of air. John snapped his mouth shut and gave Greg a sheepish look. “What brought on this identity crisis? I would have thought you would sort this out when you were first attracted to Sherlock.”

                “I was trying to do that but _someone_ freaked Sherlock out about our friendship and I ended up snogging him.” John answered pointedly. “Which I’m not complaining about because I like snogging him. My sister came out as gay eight months ago.”

                This declaration, unrelated to anything else John had said, seemed to need a comment from Greg. Or at least that’s the impression Greg got from the stare John was giving him. Slowly he offered, “Congratulations?”

                “Why are you congratulating me?”

                “I have no idea. What is the actual point of this conversation?”

                John huffed, “The point is that my sister is gay and now my parents, who have always been pretty apathetic about gay people, are full-on supporters. Gay pride and rainbow flags and all kinds of stuff. For the past eight months our house has pretty much been gay headquarters. Now they think I’m gay because of Sherlock and Harry’s friends think I’m gay and they want me to be in their gay alliance or something! Except I’m not gay. Because I’m attracted to girls and Sherlock and other guys.”

                Greg seriously did not understand why they were having this conversation. It seemed like John had sorted out his sexuality okay and his parents would handle it well enough. As… supportively as he could Greg asked, “So you might be bi?”

                “I’m almost certainly bi.”

                “Right. And the problem is?”

                “So many things! For starters I don’t want to join an alliance. I am very happy in my bisexual bubble with my probably gay boyfriend. I don’t need a parade or anything like that. It probably makes me a selfish prick but I don’t see why I have to prove I’m proud of my bisexuality with a parade. I don’t even like parades, Mr. Lestrade. If other people want a parade then fine. I’ll even help with other aspects of the whole… LBGTQ thing. Is that the thing? Doesn’t matter, I’ll help. Because there are issues that need help but I don’t want to walk in a parade holding a bisexual flag! Also my parents are going to kill me because they hate bisexuals!”

                Greg honestly wasn’t quite sure how to address any of the first part of that hysterical rant. Instead he focused on the last part of it. “You just said your parents support gay rights.”

                “Yeah. If you’re straight then they’re fine. If you’re gay then they’re fine. If you’re bi then they lose their minds. They think people who are bi are immoral sexual perverts who want to have sex with anything with a pulse.” John leaned forward on the desk and stage whispered, “My parents think I’m an immoral sexual pervert who wants to have sex with anything with a pulse, Mr. Lestrade. Seriously?”

                “So you don’t want to tell your parents that your bi because”-

                “I wouldn’t want to tell them if I was gay.” John interrupted. Greg sighed because John was talking in circles and he had always been such a nice boy before this. “I wouldn’t want to tell them if I was straight either. I don’t get the whole ‘coming out’ thing. No, I get that it’s important to a lot of people but it’s not to me. Why should they care if I’m gay, straight, bi, or anything else? It’s my business.”

                “So if you don’t want to come out to your parents then I’m confused about why you’re freaking out.”

                “Because I don’t want them saying that I’m gay. But I can’t say that I’m not gay because then they’ll ask what I’m doing with Sherlock.”

                Greg glanced at the clock and sighed because of course John would decide to lose his mind minutes before class was supposed to start. “Listen I can’t really help you with… all of that right now. Class is about to begin.” John shot a guilty look at the clock. “But if you want to set something up to talk after class sometime that would work.”

                “Yeah. That’s good. I’ll do that. Thanks for listening, Mr. Lestrade. I’ll just… um, leave now.” John rambled as he headed for the door.

                “John?” Greg called after because he didn’t want to leave the kid with nothing. John paused and he said, “Not everyone needs a coming out party or a flag in a parade. If you’ve found happiness then don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for it.”

                John smiled a little shyly and it made Greg wonder how long John had been fighting with himself. John was not normally a shy or overly self-conscious person so the fact that he was about this concerned Greg a bit. John nodded and waved as he left. Greg sat back in his chair and speculated on when the whole world had lost their minds.

 

~~~

 

                It wasn’t right per se to not answer his phone during work hours, but was it wrong? Was it really the worst thing he could do on the job? Because phone calls during work hours were generally not good things. With the day Greg was having he did not particularly want to deal with a not good thing.

                However Greg was a good person so he answered the phone and cautiously said, “Greg Lestrade.”

                “You are about to receive a bouquet of flowers,” a smooth, posh voice said, “and I recommend you throw them out”

                “I just got them.” Greg said cheerfully.  Hearing Mycroft’s voice was much better than what he had half been expecting to happen. “Why should I throw them out?”

                “Because they will say they are from me but they aren’t.”

                “Oh so the little bastard is sending me flowers, is he? That’s sort of romantic.”

                “I’m certain the message is not romantic.” Mycroft murmured. “You should throw out the bouquet without reading the card or looking up the meaning of the flowers. I can’t imagine either one is good.”

                Greg plucked the card off the bouquet and said, “I don’t know. They look awful nice.”

                “It’s amazing what nasty things you can make flowers say if only you have the know-how and creativity.”

                “Oh god, Sherlock’s got those in surplus.”

                Mycroft chuckled, “Indeed. So you see why I made my recommendation?”

                “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? Sherlock went to all the trouble of sending me this bouquet so the least I could do is read the card.” Greg argued. “I figure I’m too stupid to think to look up the meanings of the flowers so he won’t expect me to know that.”

                “I would like it put on the record that I think the card should not be read.”

                “Noted.” Greg hesitated then asked, “So you want me to read it to myself or…?”

                “Oh no. If you intend on reading the card then please do share.”

                “Alright. Here we go.” Greg cleared his throat dramatically and read, “‘Lestrade, I was very flattered by the attention I received from you, which should explain why I agreed to a date very nicely. However on further thought I have decided that it would be disastrous for us to actually follow through. I’ve sent you this lovely bouquet as an apology. Mycroft Holmes.’”

                “It seems he actually made a reasonable attempt to imitate my speech patterns. I expected it to be filled with hate.”

                “Nah. That’d be too obvious. It’s the ‘Lestrade’ that gives him away. If you had written the card you would have put ‘Gregory’… or maybe ‘Mr. Lestrade’ since you were breaking things off.”

                 “Indeed.”

                Greg hesitated because he didn’t really want to ruin his chances with Mycroft, but this needed to be addressed. He fiddled the card and asked, “Does it bother you that Sherlock is so upset about our date?”

                Mycroft didn’t answer right away and Greg was a little glad he was actually thinking about it. Yeah, a date with Mycroft sounded nice but he didn’t want it to cause a bunch of problems. The fact that Mycroft was taking the time to actually weigh the pros and cons of dating him was reassuring and it occurred to Greg that that was probably a little odd. Finally Mycroft said, “Most things I do upset Sherlock.” That wasn’t actually an answer at all though.

                “Right. Well as long as you’re still willing to give it a go then I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

                “Yes. Good-bye, Gregory.”

                “Bye.”

                Greg hung up the phone and frowned at it for a few minutes. He liked Mycroft a lot, especially considering he hadn’t met the man in person yet. He also liked Sherlock despite how much of a bastard he was. Actually sometimes because of how much of a bastard he was because Sherlock was hilarious when he was outraged. Greg had no desire to be a point of contention between the two though. Especially since Mycroft had said that he had frequently become Sherlock’s enemy since taking up guardianship of him.

                Unfortunately Greg couldn’t be sure if Sherlock was infuriated by the idea of Greg and Mycroft dating because he was an overdramatic teen or because he really didn’t want it to happen. Greg could understand Sherlock's concern since there were no guarantees and it was possible that things would end badly for Mycroft and Greg. Sherlock had to know that no matter what happened with the older Holmes Greg would always be there for Sherlock. Actually Sherlock probably didn’t know that because he was a hard kid to like.

                It had taken Greg months to realise that Sherlock didn’t loath him after they had met. That’s just the way Sherlock was though. He didn’t show affection very well. The only person Greg had ever seen Sherlock be what someone might possibly term as openly affectionate with was John. Even that tended to be tightly restrained and private and if he caught you watching he tried to kill you with his mind. Greg figured he was going to have to have a talk with Sherlock, either before or after the date, to make it clear that Greg wasn’t going anywhere. Even though Sherlock would probably tell him to go a few places and enumerate all of the ways Greg was an idiot.

 

~~~

 

                Mycroft had gotten the reservations and, since Greg wasn’t completely comfortable with the posh restaurant, he waited outside for Mycroft to arrive. Greg tried not to shift around too much and reveal to the others how nervous he was. They kept throwing him askance glances as though he didn’t know that he didn’t belong here. There was also the fact that in another two minutes Mycroft was going to be late. Which was concerning only because Mycroft didn’t seem like the type to take being late lightly. There were still two minutes so there was time.

                As that thought passed through his mind a black car pulled to a stop in front of him. Greg tried to watch the car without acting like he was watching the car. Another posh, handsome looking bloke stepped out of the car and glanced around. Of course he looked right at him and, after a moment, said, “Gregory?”

                Greg was relieved that Mycroft didn’t look much like Sherlock. It had occurred to him while he’d been getting ready that he might be going out with an older version if Sherlock. That had not been a comforting thought. Mycroft was handsome in a different way though and didn’t have Sherlock’s infamous curls.

                Greg smiled, “Yeah. Mycroft? Nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”

                “Likewise. I apologise for pressing my luck with the time. Sherlock was determined to prevent my arrival.”

                “He really doesn’t want us doing this, uh?” Greg frowned and asked, “Does… does that bother you?”

                “If he genuinely did not want me here then I would not be here. Contrary to his very loud claims I do listen to Sherlock and his concerns.”

                “I believe you. He does like to complain.”

                “He doesn’t play sports so he must find something to occupy himself.”

                Greg laughed and followed Mycroft into the restaurant. They were seated immediately and placed their drink orders then suffered through a moment of awkward silence. Finally Greg decided to screw it and asked, “What do you do?”

                “I occupy a minor position in the British government.”

                Greg stared at him expectantly but he didn’t offer anymore information. “Right, but what do you do exactly?”

                “I am involved in many proceedings.”

                “You’re pretty good at answering questions without saying anything aren’t you?”

                Mycroft smirked, “That’s as apt a description of my job as any I’ve heard.” Greg grinned and Mycroft continued, “My position is minor but I am moving through the ranks faster than I think most would have expected me to.”

                “Well you are a Holmes.” Greg teased. “Although it’s kind of obvious that you doing pretty well for yourself if you’re a kid and you know about this place.”

                “I’m not entirely certain I’m flattered by your constant references to my being a child. I’m not that much younger than you and I’ve observed that age means little.”

                “It’s just a number?”

                “Yes. Age does not guarantee intelligence, wisdom, or even experience.”

                “And you have these things?”

                “Well I am a Holmes.”

                Greg laughed, “Touché. Alright I’ll stop talking about you being a kid, even if you kind of are one.” Mycroft rolled his eyes which made Greg’s grin widen.

                Their drinks came and they placed their order, even though Greg wasn’t entirely sure what he had ordered. Then Mycroft said, “I already know _what_ you do so why don’t you tell me _why_ you do what you do?”

                “Doesn’t my file say?”

                “I suppose I could deduce the why from the information listed there. I would prefer for you to just tell me though.”

                Greg fiddled with his wine glass and said, “It’s kind of dumb.”

                Mycroft was watching him under hooded eyes but Greg knew that his attention was still sharp and focused. He was probably seeing more now than Greg would be able to tell him in three months. Softly Mycroft said, “I doubt that’s true, however even if it is true it seems to have led you down a good path.”

                “Yeah. It did.” Greg murmured absently. Then he cleared his throat and said, “When I was a kid I hated school. My grades were horrible and I had no interest learning... anything. My parents were desperate and I think they kind of wished I had a learning problem. I certainly had to go through enough tests as a kid. Basically I learned that I just was lazy and hated school. Then when I was about... um, I think about ten I had this teacher, Mr. Waters, who was a big history fanatic and tried to connect with all his students. I hated him most of all.

                “He decided to take an interest in me for some reason. I was furious because he made me work twice as hard and pushed me to care about things. Anything really. Looking back I realise how much effort he went to in an attempt to make me a better person. At the time I just kept on hating him while he kept on trying to connect with me. Then stuff started clicking. I started learning things and it made sense and… I don’t really know. Suddenly I realised there was all this _stuff_ I could learn about and I was thrilled. So I guess I became a teacher because I wanted to be somebody’s Mr. Waters.”

                “I take it your relationship with him improved?”

                “Yeah but not until after he wasn’t actually my teacher anymore. It took me forever to stop being stubborn.”

                Mycroft smirked, “I find it amusing that your claim that you stopped being stubborn is generalized. Implying you are no longer stubborn. I have evidence to the contrary.”

                Greg rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and with mock impatience said, “Yes, fine. I’m still stubborn but I stopped being stubborn about that.”

                During the meal they kept up an easy flow of banter and experienced no more awkward silences. Greg liked Mycroft’s laugh and was happy to see him continue to unwind as they talked. They were in the midst of discussing dessert options when a gentleman in a sharp suit stopped at their table, his eyes glued to his Blackberry. Mycroft gave the man a fierce glare and Greg saw the family resemblance between him and Sherlock. “There had better be an international crisis.” Mycroft gritted out. Greg honestly couldn’t tell if that was a weird joke or not.

                The gentleman glanced up from his Blackberry and said, “It’s Sherlock, sir.”

                Mycroft’s irritation was very quickly replaced with concern. “What happened?”

                “He’s at hospital.” The man answered blandly. Mycroft shot out of his seat so fast the chair nearly toppled over. “John Watson was injured according to our sources.”

                “Oh god.” Greg muttered because he honestly thought this was worse. An injured Sherlock was terrible, but an injured John meant an enraged and dangerous Sherlock. Greg stood and said, “I’ll get the check.”

                “No need. Wesley will take care of it.” Mycroft turned and strode out of the restaurant and Greg followed because Greg thought he was probably invited. Even if he wasn’t he still wanted to go because Sherlock and John were his students.

 

~~~

 

                There was a woman with a Blackberry in-hand waiting outside when Greg and Mycroft arrived. Mycroft barely paused as he asked, “Where?”

                “Third floor, room 345.” She answered without actually looking up from her Blackberry. “Sir?” Mycroft offered her a glare for stopping him. She was so focused on her Blackberry that Greg wasn’t sure she noticed. “John Watson is running out of doctors willing to go near him while Sherlock is present.”

                Mycroft gave a jerky nod before resuming his brisk walk. Mostly so he could have something to say Greg asked, “How many assistants do you have?”

                “Enough for someone of my status.” Mycroft murmured. Greg was kind of relieved when Mycroft sent him a vaguely amused look.

               Shouting could be heard as soon as they exited the lift. Mycroft closed his eyes briefly before heading in the direction of the noise. The door to John’s room was open so Greg was surprised when Mycroft stopped in the doorway. Sherlock glared at the middle aged man in the room and cried, “Stay away!”

                “He’s my son!” Mr. Watson shouted. “You don’t even belong here!”

                “I’m not the one who put him in hospital!”

                “Sherlock.” John said pleadingly. “You weren’t even there. You don’t know what happened.”

                Mycroft seemed to decide that was his cue to enter the room. No one noticed his entry and they kept yelling at each other. Mycroft watched impassively for about thirty seconds then he said, “Silence.”

                It had been a calmly and quietly spoken command but everyone actually quieted down. Greg had never seen Sherlock look at someone with so much relief. “Mycroft!”

                “Finally!” Mr. Watson cut in, seeming to think he was allowed to speak if Sherlock was. “Get him out of here!”

                “I do not recall,” remarked Mycroft coolly, “asking anyone to speak.” Everyone looked appropriately cowed so Greg decided to hang out in the doorway. “John what are your injuries?”

                John licked his lips and shrugged, “Not much really.”

                “Lies! This man attacked him!”

                Mr. Watson turned another shade of red and yelled, “You weren’t even there you arrogant bastard!”

                “Enough. Do not speak unless you are spoken to.” Mycroft interrupted with a firm look to Sherlock and Mr. Watson. “Sit.” Greg wasn’t surprised when everyone, including himself, sat. Mycroft approached the side of John’s bed and stared at him for a minute. Greg wished he could see Mycroft’s face but he could see the wariness in John’s face. Softly Mycroft asked, “What are your injuries?”

                “It’s just… my arm’s broken in two places and I have a concussion.”

                “Plus a few scrapes and bruises.” Mycroft murmured, probably referring to John’s black eye.

                John blushed and sighed, “That was my own fault.” His blush intensified and confessed, “I think I punched myself when I fell actually.”

                “I see. How did the accident happen, John? No. Do not look at anyone else. This is not your father’s story to tell. Tell me what happened and know that no matter what I will take care of everything for you. Everything.”

                Greg thought that was a pretty hefty promise but John’s brow smoothed out and he nodded. Clearly he had implicit trust in Mycroft. “It was an accident, Mycroft. We were arguing and I went to leave but dad grabbed my arm. So I tried to jerk away but it was too hard so I fell down the stairs. That’s all. It was just a dumb accident.”

                Sherlock snorted but Mycroft shot him a look that silenced him. After a slight hesitation Mycroft nodded at John then turned to the other Watson’s. “Come with me please.”

                “Who do you think you are?” Mr. Watson snapped, although he did follow Greg noted.

                “Mycroft Holmes. It would be in your best interest not to cross me.”

                After they had left John gave Sherlock a concerned look and said, “Mycroft’s not going to deport them is he?”

                “He should. Your story of ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs is utterly ridiculous! Do you know how many people die every year after falling down the stairs? You could have died, John!”

                John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and said, “I’m fine.”

                “Then you would be _dead_.” Sherlock cried dramatically, ignoring John. “You can’t die. If you died then what would happen to me? And I don’t care if that is selfish! You can’t… I wouldn’t…. _John_.”

                John pulled Sherlock down so that Sherlock could bury his face in John’s neck and John could wrap his good arm around Sherlock. “I’m fine,” repeated John as he stroked Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock mumbled something that Greg couldn't make out but it provoked John to say he was fine again.

                Greg decided that the moment was too private for his presence and went in the hall. He shut the door behind him and sat in a nearby chair to wait on Mycroft’s return. The date was obviously over and Greg supposed he could go home and just call Mycroft later. However he didn't want to go because, despite the fact that it wasn't technically true, he felt he was involved in this situation.

                John was a good kid and, even though he still didn’t have favorites, John was one of his best students. Academically speaking. Greg had no idea what word fit his relationship with Sherlock but there was definitely something. Sherlock was right about mentor being the wrong word, but it was still something important. And Mycroft. Well, Mycroft was pretty great and their date had been going well before the interruption. Besides he also wanted to make certain that Mycroft was okay. Mycroft deserved to have someone concerned about him, despite all of his experience and wisdom and other nonsense.

                After about fifteen minutes Mycroft finally came back. He glanced at Greg but took up position outside the door looking through the window. Greg joined him and inside the room saw John’s cast lying in Sherlock’s lap while Sherlock frowned at John’s chart and appeared to lecture John. After a minute Greg asked, “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Watson?”

                “Finishing up a bit of paperwork that will release John.”

                “Ah. John seemed to think you were capable of deporting them.”

                Mycroft sighed, “Sherlock has John convinced that I am the most powerful man in Britain.”

                Greg smirked, “When really you’re just on your way to being the most powerful man in Britain.”

                Mycroft smiled and looked at Greg with a raised brow. “I prefer not to comment on that.” Greg laughed. They watched the boys for a moment before Mycroft said, “You disapprove of my leaving John with his parents.”

                Greg supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Mycroft had picked up on that. He was brilliant. “John was lying.”

                “Yes.” Mycroft agreed softly. “From what I can deduce the real story is that John and his father were arguing about something. Most likely they found out about John’s bisexuality since they seem to have an oddly hypocritical view of that. In the midst of the argument Mr. Watson pushed John, who did fall down the stairs.”

                “So he shoved John instead of punching him which makes everything okay?”

                “I gave John license to tell me whatever he wished. I may not be able to deport the Watson’s but I could have done a great deal to them. He chose to go with a slightly less damning story than the truth.”

                “Right.” Greg muttered trying to keep a tight rein on his irritation. “You do realise that lots of kids in dangerous situations are too afraid to come forward? Even when promised safety.”

                “Yes. However John was not lying out of fear. I am capable of telling the difference.” A hint of annoyance crept into Mycroft’s voice as he spoke. “John decided to give his father a second chance and I respected that decision. If there was evidence of consistent abuse or if Mr. Watson did not show remorse then I would have intervened. And I will monitor the situation.”

                Greg nodded briskly even though he still wasn’t sure if he agreed. They watched the two boys again for a while. Sherlock said something that made John grin affectionately. “I sometimes think,” Mycroft said quietly, “about what would have happened if Sherlock hadn’t met John. It is a bleak prospect. I owe John a great deal and there is almost nothing he could ask of me that I would not give him. I will protect his safety to great lengths, if for no other reason than to prevent Sherlock from self-destruction.”

                Greg looked at Mycroft even though Mycroft was resolutely not looking at him. “I believe you. I think you care about John and know you care about Sherlock. I wasn't doubting that.”

                Mycroft glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and gave a sharp nod. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I am sorry that this date did not have a better ending. – Or a proper ending I suppose.”

                “That’s okay. You can make it up to me next time.”

                Mycroft looked genuinely surprised as he said, “Next time?”

                Greg flushed because the disbelief in Mycroft’s voice didn’t bode well. Greg had thought the date had been successful… until the trip to the hospital, but maybe Mycroft hadn't thought so. He shifted and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Oh. Well… I don’t know. I thought maybe we could do this again. I mean, not come see John in hospital because I don’t want that obviously. But another date maybe. If you wanted.” Mycroft continued to look surprised, which did not bolster Greg’s confidence. “You don’t want to. That’s fine”-

                “No!” Mycroft cried. The unexpected outburst raised Greg’s hopes a bit. “It’s not… no. I was just under the impression… that this was a one-time experience.”

                Mycroft didn’t sound like that idea appealed to him so Greg was a little confused why he thought that. So he asked, “Why?”

                “Most people find the fact that I am Sherlock’s guardian disconcerting. They don’t want to have to deal with that situation.”

                For the first time all evening Mycroft looked unbearably young while he fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve. It was easy to figure out that someone had told Mycroft that at some point. Someone whose opinion Mycroft had valued. Greg shifted a little closer to Mycroft and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

                Mycroft glanced up at him and said, “Not particularly.”

                Greg understood that, especially since he and Mycroft still didn’t know each other that well. “Okay. Well… I’m not a complete arse so if you’re willing then another date would be great.”

                Mycroft smiled appreciatively and Greg considered whether it would be too odd if he took Mycroft’s hand. Before he could decide a shoe hit the door window. Inside Sherlock was glaring at them furiously. Greg made a rude gesture that caused John to laugh. Mycroft entered the room and Sherlock said, “Do not flirt in my presence. No one wants to see your disgusting mating rituals.”

                “I find that disturbingly hypocritical considering the position I caught you and John in on our sofa.” Mycroft said dryly. John flushed and Sherlock’s scowl deepened. “John? Your parents are filling out your release papers. I imagine Sherlock wishes to spend the night with you so you are welcome to spend the night at our flat. Or, if you prefer, Sherlock may stay at your home.”

                “Thanks!” John beamed at Mycroft. Then he shifted and said, “Um, for everything.”

                Mycroft nodded his acknowledgement. Sherlock scoffed, “He didn’t _do_ anything. He should have had your father killed but he couldn’t even manage that.”

                “Could you please not talk about murdering my dad? At least wait until I’m not concussed.”

                Sherlock sighed then turned back to Mycroft and said, “Get out.”

                Mycroft looked exasperated so Greg grabbed his hand. He ignored Mycroft’s startled look and Sherlock’s horrified one and said, “That’s fine with us. Our dessert was interrupted and I happen to know about a great café that serves the best desserts. Bye boys.”

                He tugged Mycroft out of the room as Sherlock called after, “Business settings only!”


End file.
